Pokemon Detectives
by Amidst Hobbits
Summary: My husband is a die-hard Pokemaniac. I, on the other hand, am not, and would frequently change the channel away from Pokemon whenever it came on. However, in the interest of our marriage, I decided to write a story based on my very limited understanding of his Poke-interests. Thus, Pokemon Detectives was born.
1. Chapter 1: And the Phone Rang

"Make sure you lock up for the night." My stalwart employer stated before closing the door behind him. They skies were already turning a hue of iridescent black as the clock ticked to half past eight. As per usual, it had been a busy day – nearly three cases before lunch. I piled my paperwork into my trusty briefcase. Yes, I still have one of those. Some people might call me old school; I prefer to label myself "vintage." I just find nothing overly exciting about storing my documents online like normal people. Lack of complete online security is enough to haunt me in my sleep. Just as I laid the last paper corner-to-corner with the ones below it, the phone rang. And then my cell phone began to buzz. I swished my tail as a feeling of annoyance rippled up my spine. It was the end of my shift. Don't people understand that it's important to eat dinner before nine o'clock? Lucky for me, I live literally down the street. _"__Oh well."_ I sigh and pick up the receiver. "Cerulean Detective Agency, how may I help you?"

There was brief silence on the other end before the whispery voice of an audino began to speak. "Help! We need your help!"

"Hello, Mam? Could you please speak up? I want to help but I have to hear you first. Who is _we_?" I asked in my high-pitched, annoyingly girly voice. You know how some people complain that their voice just sounds completely different when they listen to a recording of it? I can totally relate.

"Us! All of us! Your friends! Your coworkers! Your… _loved ones!_" Creeptastic. At least I could hear her now. "I have… _information…_ but… but you can't… you can't tell anyone that I tell you. I am calling from a community pay phone… they… they might find me any moment." All right! All right! Just get to the important details already! I let out a yawn. Let's just say I'm not exactly a poke-person. Er… People-poke? You know what I mean.

"Lady, I'm gonna need some more details if I'm gonna help you." Sometimes I like to make myself feel important. I am important. I'm more than just a file-organizer! I'm… a secretary. Big deal.

"He… he's going to betray us all! You just look at him and know he's a creeper. They say he even speaks like a human. Like… He knows more human language than his own name!" Alright, so, maybe this is nothing new… but that detail might not be that important. There are plenty of pokemon that have learned how to efficiently communicate with the human creatures. Take Meowth for example. Nothing particularly exciting about him, unless you're a crazy cat-lady. She continued, "It's that new guy… they creepy one. I've always hated cats, but nothing compares to the way that this one makes me feel. They say… he battles…" Again, nothing new… a lot of pokemon are crazy enough to take up low-life activities. Some are even stupid enough to partner up with humans and give up basic pokemon rights- like the ability to choose your own future, to speak your own language… I digress.

"Is this a case overprotective-protective-mother-concerned-about-h er-possibly-rebellious-kids? If so, I would appreciate if you called back in the morning." I can sound so empowered sometimes.

"You don't understand! He doesn't just battle with humans; he battles _like humans!_ He forces other pokemon to fight for him! I've seen him. Just this morning, he strolled into town… He can't be trusted… He killed my son." Woah! Woah! Woah! Maybe that detail should have been brought up at the very beginning of the conversation. My tail stood at attention. I was really listening this time. No one… _No one _actually kills pokemon.

"Did you call the police?" I asked with urgency.

"They can't be trusted." Alright. Yah, that's the truth. They get government funding, and, as you know, all that money comes from the elite psychic pokemon at the top who have fully-heartedly allied themselves with the human types. Nope. Better not to trust them.

"Do you know his name?"

"They say he goes by the name… Mewtwo." I had never heard that name before, but I could instantly tell that he wasn't boyfriend material.


	2. Chapter 2: Leave It to Me

After I got off the phone with the nervous audrino, I phoned my boss and let him in on the info. He was just as shocked as I was. Seriously, what was this world coming to? He said he'd turn the bike around and be back in a couple of minutes.

_Nine-fifteen. I've given up on healthy dinner consumption. Just let me be fat – see if I care. _

"All right, let's get down to business." Announced my boss as he stumbled back into the office. Yup, he had stopped at Poke-bros on the way over – the coffee energy was sparking from his tail like a runner's heartbeat.

After discussing the situation, we came to a consensus. A stakeout was completely necessary. As usual, the dice are never in my favour. I was picked for my cute looks. As my boss said, I was obviously to cute to be a fighter. The job? Sneaking into a dimly lit dungin-thingy. My favourite.

Of course, it couldn't wait till morning. My boss is kind of a risk-taker… when it comes to other pokes doing the hard nityt-gritty dark-dark city work.


	3. Chapter 3: Nitty-Gritty Dark-Dark City

Thankfully, I keep my disguises in my briefcase. Like I said, much more convenient than on a laptop – that is, if you're not a Digimon. I went for the adventurer look. Flowing green cloak, a belt with a bag to store a few full-restores in, and a cool limited edition One Ring necklace. I was ready. Well, maybe not mentally. I am a bit scared of dark-dark city dungeons. I snuck into a heavily wooded forest area and tried to convince myself to take another step. Finally, I did. And another. And another. Etc.

"Wheh. This adventuring, spying stuff is way harder in real life." I had just crossed the Nugget Bridge. I could here a whirring sound emanating from the cave opening. Yup, sounds suspicious. I weaselled my way around some rocks and crept deeper into the even darkerness. Seriously? I don't get paid enough. You really shouldn't have to crawl into dark, scary dungeons in the middle of the dark, scary night. A rumble. "Ewww!" I squeamed at the slime that now clung to my paw. It's definitely time to retire.

It was a long way down to where the Metwew reportedly lived. So far, I had successfully made second floor. "I'm pretty good at sneaking," I proclaimed triumphantly.

Slrp. Slip. Slirp. Oh no! I froze instantly with my paws in midstride. Slrp. "Whooo gores theres?" A nasty lugy dripped down from his long extended tongue. This couldn't be good. "Do you have permissions to bes downs heres –slrp- little missies?"

"I straightened up and tried to play off a cool-and-collected aura. "Yes, of course." I guess it worked because he allowed me to continue on my way.

I silently, stepped down the last step to B1. My haunches were tense with every hair standing alert. In the torchlight I saw a figured sprawled out a few feet from the steps. His little body was partly submersed beneath the basement flooring. I touched his nose. It was clammy. His breathing was wheezy. I pulled out one of my fullrestores and let it trickle down his parched throat. I got lucky this time. He revived leaving no need to entrust him to the nurses at the poke-center. Like I said, I don't trust humans, especially when they have needles and antiseptic. The thought of clones with needles makes me shiver like there's no tomorrow.

The little diglitt came to like a champ. He was a bit sore, but he was in fine shape. "Thank you miss!" He bowed politely. "Names Cody."

"What are you doing down here?" I demanded in a questioning tone.

"Escaping! The crazy cat-thingy dragged me down here. I think he wanted to eat me…" Poor thing. Poor pathetic little creature.

"Can you tell me more about this 'crazy cat-thing'?"

"He breaks every civil right I can think of. He needs to be detained!"

"Is it true that he kills pokemon?"

"Yes. I think he ate a full grown raichu for dinner yesterday." Dinner… Oh yah… Let's not think about that. "He's a psycho! I'm getting revenge someday…" Ah. A spunky personality. Useful.

"How about tonight? I'm trying to find him, actually."

"For you Miss, anything." Cutie. However, I would feel a bit safer if he had evolved into a dugtrio already.

We cautiously darted from bolder to stone in the torchlight. I could hear the flutter of wings overhead. Thankfully, no one was sonaring us. Cody sniffed the dirt. Then he dabbed it with his paw. "Whose footprint! Whose footprint! Identify!"

I took out my notebook and made a tracing of the prints in the dirt. Two toes splayed out at a acute angles. These had to belong to the suspect. I smelled the dirt. They were pretty recent. This guy obviously isn't too into personal hygiene; I'm surprised I didn't smell him sooner.

We followed the prints for a few more minutes. Then we heard a horrible low laugh that echoed throughout the cavern. Thankfully, I had used the bathroom before I left.

"Yup. That's him. No doubt about it. Just around this rock is a short tunnel that leads into his lair." Lair. I guess those are the top item these days. Lair. I should get one sometime… "He has these creepy tube things in there. Huge pokemon are in them. They smell like formaldehyde. It's really gross."

I guess I didn't hear him that time. I was still focusing on how to obtain a lair. "Did you say something?"

He wrinkled his nose and huffed. "Just follow me…"

The eerie sound of machines could be heard all around us. Right in the middle of the room. Yup, there they were – the formaldehyde pokemon. "Yucky!" I squeaked.

In one corner I saw a couple of pokes tied up to a rock. One looked like he was almost beyond the help of a full revive. I would have been the good guy and helped him, but there was no way I could get over there without being noticed. A few guard pokemon were trolling the area. They looked fierce and battle ready. These must be the recruits, huh?

I was about to say something when I blacked out. Poison spores fluttered down from above me. I completely skipped dinner.

It was morning, but you wouldn't have been able to tell from the darkness that surrounded us. Poor diglitt – captured again. It really wasn't his day. A dirge of a voice bellowed to my ears. It was the Mewtwo. He was talking. And I could smell him.

"Spies is it? And this pathetic little creature thought he could escape? You really are stupid, aren't you?"

A tear slid down little Cody's face. "Please don't eat me."

The Metwo laughed loudly. "Eat you? You are far too scrawny. Don't worry, I won't eat you. I will just scan your genetic data and then destroy you. Does that sound better?" Real comedian, isn't he.

The poor little guy. His eyes were wider than he probably thought was possible as he shivered there in dimness. I now took a closer look at the pokemon that I had previously spotted on the other side of the room. They looked haggard – obviously malnourished. My stomach grumbled as I thought about my cute girlish figure shrivelling up into bones and scraggly looking skin.

…

Time passes by so slowly down here. I keep myself entertained by drawing pictures in the dirt with toe. Currently, I am on a roll – out of the 62 tic-tack-toe games Cody and I have played; I'm up by three points. Unfortunately, I am luckier at games than at real life. Then it finally dawns on me. I really should have taken that barista job at Cuppa-Joe's. It might pay less, but at least it had dependable hours.

Hour-a-few-later, Cody is humming again. I can't get him to stop. I think it's some kind of annoying coping mechanism. Hey! Wait a minute! I just remembered something! I always keep my extra nail file in my pouch. Stupid cat. You would think he would be smart enough to take my purse. I separate some of the fluff around my waist to reveal my waist pouch. Tucked inside, like always, was my precious nail file. Hey! I might not have a stunner job in pr, but a girl has to be prepared for a broken nail. Really, they can make or break a day. You have to be prepared.


End file.
